Author Notes:

-Writing from Prussia's point of view has me giggling and blushing and ah hah. But I dug my own hole by telling myself three chapters, one for each character. And then leaving Prussia for last. Oh boy, here we go. Expect a lot of cursing ~

Warnings:

-All previous warnings apply (you should know this by now, but this is what I like to call a "sex-fic")

-kinks: DP

-This feels more descriptive...and yet...ah...porn that makes me laugh...I love you, Prussia 3

~!~

Never Again

Part 3 – Prussia

~!~

He has determined that he is going to kill them both one day. Slowly. Very, very slowly. He has yet to decide how or when, but there will be payback. There will most definitely be payback for this.

He will not admit that it feels good. He will not admit that some small (or not so small) part of him is enjoying the ever loving hell out of this. He will most definitely not admit that he wants to beg for them to hurry up and can't they just get on with it?

The waiting is killing him. The playful teasing has gone from annoying to almost painful. He has never been a patient man – and the both of them know it. In fact, they are dragging this out on purpose. Dragging it out and making him whimper – whimper – as they continue to tease and force pleasure down his throat, quite literally.

But they are talking. Talking and discussing what they are going to do. He is sure to glare at them. Even as he sucks on their fingers like the good little kinky whore that they want him to be – he doesn't care anymore, he just wants to fuck. He listens as they talk, amazed that they can stand there and have such a conversation while he sits here, dying. Yes, he is more than likely going to die from heat stroke at this rate.

Gott, it is too damn hot in here, and they are doing absolutely nothing to quell the fire. No, they're fanning it, making it worse. He wants to reach out and fuck one of them, or both of them, but he can't do that because his damn French friend has gone and handcuffed his wrists, holding them way above his head. And Toni is standing just out of reach anyway, leaning back against the table like he owns the place, earning glares because he's speaking of doing more teasing.

Of course, when Antonio speaks of more than one round, he has to growl and stop everything. He's already come once! How many more do they want to put him through?

Fuck once and he would be perfectly happy. Hell, he won't even complain anymore about being forced on the bottom. He just wants to have the sex and feel true release. He wants to have this night over with and pushed aside in the very back of his memory. He wants to destroy the very alcohol known as wine – watching it burn on a river would be much more interesting than this stupid, pathetic, weak state it puts him in. Although he is quite sure that his two "buddies" would disagree with him on that one.

Shitty wine.

He tries to spit the fingers out of his mouth. He tries to pull his arms down. Tries to sit up.

But he is stopped successfully each time. Toni actually sits down on top of him now, making him hiss when their erections touch because the Spaniard has finally gotten himself naked, too. And then there's another finger in his mouth and the reminder from Francis that "going in dry is kinky, too."

Fuck. That.

He is not happy, but he complies. Francis isn't just spouting words. Best friend or not, he would go in dry. Sometimes, Gilbert has to wonder if his friends are better than his enemies or not. With the way these two are always -

"What if we both fuck him, Francis?"

He freezes when Antonio throws out his latest idea. Freezes completely and stares at Spain, wanting to snap at him, wanting to call him nuts. Of course, it takes the dumbass Frenchman a while to figure it out, but Francis quickly laughs, perverted as fuck. "Oh, he is never going to live this down."

I hate you both.

"Nope. Never."

So much.

Antonio leans in and kisses his cheek, making him grimace at the inappropriate loving gesture. Except not. He can't grimace very well with four fingers fucking his mouth. He ends up letting a grunted moan free despite all efforts to not do so, simply because he wants to snap something at them.

Of course, Toni just giggles at him and ruffles his hair, making him glare harder, if that is at all possible. "I think he's ready, Francis. What position -?"

Before Antonio can even finish the sentence, France starts commanding. "You hold onto the handcuffs. And get up on the table."

He watches as Spain smiles and does just that, jumping up to where he's sitting on the edge of the table, cock hanging out in the free air – hard and waiting. Prussia simply glares, even when the fingers come out of his mouth. He feels his arms move down and forward as Antonio takes control, and he feels Francis touching his sides behind him, the both of them working together to pull him out of the chair and force him to stand up.

He's only standing straight for a little bit before Toni tugs on his bonds and Prussia ends up stumbling forward, bending down to where his face just so happens to line up with the Spaniard's cock. Spain's hands are on his own now, sitting on the edge of the table in between Toni's legs. He can tell that his friend is waiting for something, but he refuses to comply.

No, I will not suck your motherfucking dick. Not when you're getting so much more out of me right now. That just wouldn't be fair, asshat.

A little voice in his mind does chirp and remind him about Spain giving him a blow job a few moments before. So, would it not be fair to return the favor? But, no, he forces that thought to the side and is about to voice his triumphant stubborn defiance when something wet and slick pokes into his entrance.

He tenses up before he can think about it and has to bite back the whimper. "Oh relax, Gilbert, you should know better than that."

He opens his mouth to shout a comeback but all that comes out is a taut, "Ah -" as the finger starts moving against his inside walls and he fails to suppress the shudder.

Fuck. I can't even -

Thoughts are becoming difficult to process as Francis adds another finger. He forces his body to relax because despite himself he knows it feels good and he knows being tense makes everything worse. Whether or not he hasn't bottomed in years, he is not a virgin even in this respect and knows good and well what to expect.

Of course, the relaxing allows another moan and shudder to escape, though he's starting to care less about that as pleasure insists on taking over everything else. As if from another world, he can make out the sound of the handcuffs shaking, like he's trembling or something absurd. A hand grabs onto his hair and roughly pulls his face down, pressing a warm dick into his open mouth.

He tries to mumble a protest but that just succeeds in making drool drip out of his mouth and he is forced to move his tongue and slurp around the shaft, tasting Antonio's precum. He hears something from this other world – the sound of a moan from above – and then the feel of legs around his head, heels against his back, pushing him further down. He is forced to swallow to keep from gagging, forced to breathe through his nose, and yes he most definitely would have pulled back and bitched at Spain if not for the damnable fingers curling against an oh-so-fucking-good-feeling in his ass.

Despite all efforts not to, he moans, vibrating the member in his mouth, and his ears pick it up as a loud hum. His ears also pick up a panting, "Come on, Gil. You have a talent for this and you know it ~ Please ~"

If it wasn't his friend's cock, Prussia is certain he would have bitten down by now. He growls – or tries to – and earns a another panting moan from his Spanish friend, as well as fingers tangling in the mess of his silvery white hair. The feeling of an electric shock suddenly runs down his legs and he probably would have lost his balance if his old buddy Francis wasn't behind him to chuckle and hold him up, the fingers leaving just as they discover that important pleasure filled pressure point.

Motherfucker.

It shouldn't feel this good. It should not feel this good. He should still want to kill them both, but between the hands in his hair, and the dick rubbing against his ass as his knees buckle, he can't think straight. He just cannot think straight no matter how much he tries.

Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me, verdamt!

Closing his eyes, feeling the heat in his face, he takes a breath through his nose again and starts to suck, remembering the look on Toni's face as he gave lip service to a wine bottle. He tries to replicate the image, tries to pretend like he's in control and Spain is the one moaning and begging for more. Although, Spain is the one moaning and begging for more as Prussia sucks and licks and actually cares about the service he's doing for his friend. The humming is caused by his own moans and his own pants for more, though, yet it adds a new layer to the blow job while somewhere in the hazy world behind him, he can feel France's hands on his hips and he can feel something hard start to push its way into him.

And he wants it.

The pain adds to the pleasure, just as much as the rough tugging on his hair, and he gleefully deep-throats his Spanish friend, completely losing all sense of where he is and what he's really doing – so focused on the sensations as he is. He starts to hum on purpose now, playfully licking the bottom of Antonio's shaft, and then his mouth hangs open and tears pop into his eyes as Francis completely overrides all sense of gentleness and slams into him hilt-deep. He swears he cries out, shouts some obscene curse, and he can feel wood chips under his fingers as he claws into the table, but Francis doesn't seem to care, sighing somewhere behind him as he sits and waits for things to adjust.

Suddenly, there is a hand on his own aching, dripping hard member and he whimpers as the pain coalesces with the pleasure. Spain makes some sound above him. Francis makes some smart ass comment behind him. And then things really begin to pop out of proportion as everything moves.

Antonio begins to fuck his mouth, hands gripping hard to his head, tangled in his hair, as he forces his dick in and out of Prussia's mouth at his own pace. Gilbert can only let this happen, unwilling to admit – but knowing it's true – as he trembles and pants and moans like a good little whore. He can't help it, really. Francis is shoving into his ass with slow, purposeful, agonizing strokes – a direct contrast to the fast pace he's enduring between his lips.

And then there's that hand lightly fingering and occasionally pumping his famed super-awesome "5 meters." It's all too much. He is starting to feel shivers down his spine, little pin pricks of pleasurable pain as Francis is probably biting and making marks on his back. He wants to move, wants to do something – anything – at this point, but he can't. He can only sit there and take it, and simply admitting that fact makes him moan again, feeling his face flush because he thinks they know his biggest secret now.

Domination.

A complete lack of control, forced upon him, by friends. Gott, he's about to come again and he doesn't want to. Except he does. His mind is a mess because he knows what they're planning, yet the pleasure is overriding everything and he eventually loses the battle as Francis hits something special behind him and just so happens to pump him, too.

He comes into his friend's hand and whimpers, loudly this time, as Francis continues to play with him, milking him for everything he can manage. It hurts. No, it feels good, but it hurts, too. He can't make up his mind and he knows France is having to hold him up now for sure.

The damn French bastard isn't even moving faster yet. He feels another electrifying shock and shudders, swallowing instinctively because he can't cry out, and this earns him a shiver from his Spanish friend. No, a cry. No, Spain is coming now, too. He sucks and feels the juices squirt into his mouth, swallowing and lapping them all up, only to get pushed away, feeling the legs move off his shoulders, feeling the hands leave his hair.

An arm reaches around his chest and pulls him up, leaning him back against Francis while Spain just sits there on the table, breathing heavy and smiling like he'd just won a box of tomatoes. "Good job, Toni. Now you have to get hard again if you want to fuck him."

France sounds disappointed, but Gilbert can't comment on it because the Frenchie isn't letting him slip free anytime soon. There is a tongue on his neck. And then teeth. And then sucking and oh shiiiiit.

He shuts his eyes and feels his arms shake, hearing the sound of handcuffs clattering – they're no longer being held but he can't seem to move them even though he wants to. "Ah – ahhh," the sound escapes freely this time as his cock slowly pulses back to life, Francis' fingers still delicately toying with it.

Oh, Gott, it's too much. He can't think. There are so many things he wants to do, to say, but he feels spent and exhausted and yet still fucking turned on.

"That won't be hard," he hears Antonio say and then there are lips against his own. "If he keeps making noises like that."

He feels a half-hard cock against his thigh and then hands tracing scars on his chest, reaching underneath the blue shirt because he's still wearing a shirt damn it all. He gasps and then there's a tongue in his mouth, hot and messy and claiming every inch it can. He keeps his eyes closed, feeling his whole body warm up as the touches excite him beyond what should be humanly possible. A tongue clashes against his own. Elbows bent, he starts to reach up with his handcuffed hands; he feels the skin of Toni's chest and starts to push against it, and then there's an arm – France's arm – circling around his arms and holding them back against his chest.

With France's arm keeping him pinned, he notices the movement from behind seems to have stilled. "You won't hear much if you keep kissing him."

Antonio breaks away and Prussia whimpers – fuck, again? - at the lack of contact. He opens his eyes to narrow slits and stares out at his naked Spanish friend, just in time to see the happy smile – his little warning. "Si, but it's okay, I'm ready."

Ready? Ready for what?

He feels like he's forgotten something important, and Antonio's grin is not helping matters. He stares and blinks and tries not to shiver because France is still fucking touching him. Then, Toni moves forward and hands grip his thighs. He has the chance to tilt his head, but then his eyes widen as his feet are suddenly not touching the floor anymore.

Oh shit, shit, shit, shit!

His legs are being bent and spread. Gravity is pushing him further against Francis, making the French bastard go deeper inside. He's panting and he knows what's about to happen, but he can't get a word to make it past his lips. He can't even protest as Antonio and Francis work together to keep him still.

And then Toni is pushing in, keeping that promise of the both of them fucking him – at the same time. The world explodes around him and he knows he's screaming now. Curses, hopefully, and not just mumbled cries. Because fucking hell that hurts.

He must have gone somewhere else for a while, lost in the sensations as they try to make him feel good with light touches as they wait for him to adjust. Ah, fuck. Because he does not remember tears on his face and he doesn't remember feeling quite so hot. He doesn't recall when he threw his head back, either, completely allowing Toni to attack his throat without mercy. What really bugs him, though, is the fact that he's shaking, fucking trembling in their arms, and he can't decide if it's from the pain or the new explosion of pleasure that's assaulting his senses.

"Fuck..." he groans, the first coherent word he's managed to say in quite a while.

Spain giggles and kisses his collarbone, and then he's moving. It's not much but when electricity spikes to his biggest pleasure zone, Prussia knows it's enough. He keeps his eyes closed so he doesn't have to face them, but that makes the feeling ten times worse – or better.

He cries out when Toni hits that spot again. And again. And again.

Oh, Gott, I'm gonna come...

Which is going to hurt because he doesn't have anything left damn it all. He can hear whispered words from his buddies but he can't make out exactly what they're saying. Francis won't stop touching him, won't let go of his grip, won't stop toying. He's twitching now; he's definitely twitching and it's pissing him off. Or it would piss him off if he could get beyond the rush of stomach-pulling pleasure.

I'm going to kill them.

He hears something French in his ear and thank god there's something wet dripping out of his ass now. Not that it matters. It's way too late to be thankful for lube, even if it's France-just-came-inside-you. A part of him finds that disgusting, but for the moment he's on a high and not coming down and...

You fucking asshole, you stopped moving.

Everything's stopped as a matter of fact. He's on the edge, right on the fucking edge, and they've stopped. He wants to howl at them in frustration but all that comes out is another damnable whimper. His throat feels raw. His lips are buzzing. He tries to scream at them to move gott verdamt, move! But all that comes out is another pathetic mewl.

Spain cheers happily and says something in Spanish before his tongue swirls around one of Prussia's nipples, which makes him twitch but nothing more. France sighs behind him. He wants to cry because they've stopped on purpose. He knows they've stopped on purpose. They're his friends and they're being assholes. Even his enemies would have finished him off by now. No, they have to keep teasing.

He licks his lips and tries to talk again. He manages to get one small word out, one word that has them both leaning closer. "Please..."

Spain twitches inside him. He can feel that! What the hell? Fuck, the mere twitch makes him moan because it's just barely out of reach of his prostate. This is ridiculous. Gott, why?

"What was that, Gil?"

"Yeah, what did you say, mon ami?"

He wants to crush their heads together. No, he wants to stab them. No, he wants to...he wants...Fuck...

"Please, Gott, please just -"

Thankfully, it's enough. There's a mouth on his throat again. There's a hand moving on his manhood. There's a hand in his hair. An arm across his own, keeping him pinned. There's movement down below...

He lets the cry out, holding nothing back, because damn it all if it doesn't hurt and feel so damn good at the same time. Of course, it isn't finished with his release, either. Antonio still has to move, hitting him a few more times, making him moan from deep in his throat until the Spanish man finally comes as well, filling his seed in Prussia's quite crowded ass.

He's still groaning when they pull out and set him down. When he comes down from the high, he feels like he's sitting in someone's lap, or maybe the three of them are laying down on the floor. He's going to pass out and sleep and to hell with the mess or the cuddling they're trying to insist on.

Someone ruffles his hair again. He swears he's going to make a rule about doing that in the future. No one will be allowed to touch his awesome hair unless he allows it from now on.

"Want some wine before bed, Gil?"

He doesn't know who asked. At this point, he doesn't care. He keeps his eyes closed and breathes against whatever or whoever he's leaning against. Fuck, he just doesn't care. He's so exhausted, he's just going to sleep and get revenge in the morning. Yes, revenge will come later. Maybe. If he can think of something to do.

"I think that's a great idea!"

That was definitely Toni. It doesn't matter though. He takes a breath and manages to snap out at the both of them. Finally manages to snap at them.

"Go to hell," he mutters and it has a lot less venom than he would have liked.

But he doesn't care. Sleep is calling. And he answers willingly.

~!~

A/N: -insert serious perverted grin here- Hope you enjoyed the smexy BTT smex. I know I did ~ (lol) Sadly, that's all. Feel free to send requests. If I get a spark of an idea and I like it, I tend to let it fester and grow and then jump on it with vigor so ~

~~All alerts/reviews/favorites are deeply appreciated and admired – because holy hell it's hard to review a kinky story sometimes~~

~Reda